Come on then, Mr Guehi, Mr Morsy and Mr Mazraoui, what do you really mean?

The time has come for the clubs concerned and the Premier League to decide what to do about some pretty snide homophobia.

Professional footballers aren't by nature political animals, so when one of them does pass comment on the issues of the day, whether directly or indirectly, it's usually worth listening to even if it isn't really worth listening to. All of which brings us onto the subject of Marc Guehi, Sam Morsy, the Manchester United men’s squad, and the (not very) cryptic messages that are being sent about their attitudes.

It's Rainbow Laces week in the Premier League. Meaningless to the point of counter-productive though it may seem, it doesn't seem too much to ask. Change your laces (and, in the case of the club captain, the colour of your armband) for a couple of matches to make a statement against homophobia in sport. But Guehi decided to go a step further than that and make a comment of his own about our lord and saviour Jesus Christ. He's never done this before. So what was it about this particular bigotry-opposing armband that prompted this, Mr Guehi?

It’s clearly something that he feels strongly about. He wore this armband for Palace’s match against Newcastle on Saturday too, though he doesn’t seem to have dwelt upon the own goal that he scored in it and what this might say about what our lord and saviour Jesus Christ might have thought of him. He also decided, despite having received a warning from the Football Association over this, to repeat his bigoted little stunt for their trip to Ipswich on Tuesday night.

Not, of course, that Ipswich can claim a great deal of moral high ground on this particular subject after their captain Sam Morsy decided to do the same thing, albeit on this occasion for reasons related to the bigotry of a different religion. The upshot of it all was that the Premier League’s Rainbow Laces campaign has already resulted in its first homophobia derby when Ipswich played Palace during the midweek matches.

Of all the things, eh? What a coincidence. There are many ways in which Guehi could have made a ‘statement’ about things in the past. He has never, for example, seemed to have any compunction about wearing a shirt that was emblazoned with gambling companies as sponsors. He doesn't seem to have complained too much about having to work very regularly on what's supposed to be his religion's rest day, either.

The same could easily be said for Morsy, who will have had to compromise over aspects of his religious faith in the past in order to keep playing professional football and earning a lot of money over the years. There’s a case for saying that political statements have no place in football, but again it’s the extremely obvious selectiveness that’s the issue here. There are always trade-offs to be made in life, but where you choose to draw that line will reflect who you really are and what you really believe in. At Middlesbrough, Morsy was happy to wear a shirt advertising a gambling company, too. All forms of gambling are considered haram under Islamic law.

The following morning, we could also add Noussair Mazraoui to this pile with his refusal to put on a jacket which we can only presume he thought was ‘a bit gay’ before their match against Everton on Sunday afternoon. But he was backed by the rest of their players, who all refused to wear it too, despite the fact that captain Bruno Fernandes had already spoken to the club’s website, stressing the need for all supporters to feel included and respected. Fernandes described wearing his rainbow-coloured captain’s armband as “a sign of respect” and to make LGBTQ fans “feel supported” by the players. Well, that didn’t last long, did it? Mazraoui plays for a club which has the devil as its club badge, and he doesn’t seem to have an issue with that, either.

So come on then, Marc, Sam and Noussair. You’re happy to make such a public statement without opening your mouths, so let’s get on you on Sky Sports or the BBC to explain yourselves. If wearing a rainbow armband was such an imposition, then why, exactly, is that?

Let’s hear you spell it out properly for the watching audience rather than hiding behind snide messages and a refusal to do the slightest thing in support of a repressed minority. Guehi’s father, a pastor, was pretty clear on the matter, telling the Mail: “He was just trying to balance the message. He was saying: ‘You gave me the armband, as a Christian I don’t believe in your cause, but I will put it on”.

Of course, at such times it’s commonplace for some to say that politics and religion have no place in football. It’s even explicitly in the rules: “Equipment must not have any political, religious or personal slogans, statements or images.” To this there is an extremely obvious response, that football is already politicised. The Premier League is a thirty-year long celebration of wild west capitalism, while there are now clubs which are owned by actual nation states. Football club owners have always used clubs to advance their personal ambitions, and that has always included political ones.

Leagues and confederations are increasingly making political choices about where major tournaments are to be held. The concept of remembrance has become so politicised and militarised that a growing number of people feel that they can’t even commemorate it themselves any more. All international matches are preceded by the singing of national anthems, with those who don’t want to being singled out by an increasingly hysterical media. Football is political, because ultimately football is a blank screen onto which we project the values of the world in which we live.

But regardless of all this, it feels fair to ask… supporting LGBTQ people is a political matter now, is it? Because it doesn’t really feel like it should need to be one, to show support for a minority group which is subjected to prejudice every single day. And that’s what this is really about. Raising fan awareness. There are wearyingly common reports, for example, of homophobic singing at Brighton matches. It’s about showing respect for and solidarity with that community.

And there are questions here for the clubs, too. There’s a case to be made for saying that the fetishisation of the captain’s role in English football is very much an exception, in global terms. But we are where we are, and everybody knows that a club captain in England should be expected to carry themselves in a certain way, to be a representative of that club.

What does it say about Crystal Palace or Ipswich Town if they keep a homophobe as their captain? Polling has shown that one in four LBGTQ fans feel uncomfortable at matches. How might they feel about these values being expressed through the men’s first team captain? How might any LGBTQ players in the women’s team feel about them? Or even—and it should go without saying here that this is supposition—any closeted players?

The clubs concerned can’t have it all ways. You don’t get to call yourselves ‘inclusive’ if your club captain, or your entire first team squad, is doing something like this. Oliver Glasner doesn’t get to say, “In football we’re all against discrimination, against abuse, every single part” and keep Marc Guehi as captain.

These players are, in a free society, entitled to hold their opinions. But religious tolerance doesn’t mean that we have to tolerate the bigotry that is often built into that religion. Guehi doesn’t get a free pass on that because he’s a Christian, and Morsy and Mazraoui don’t get one on account of being Muslim, either. It’s now down to the clubs concerned and the Premier League to decide whether it’s even worth continuing with what really does feel increasingly like a meaningless gesture in the current climate, and certainly while players display the sort of attitudes that they have over the last few days.